My Life as a Musical
by Nobodies Have Hearts
Summary: The music on Skull's playlist and how some moments relate to it. T for safety.


Slight AU, maybe, but that's really only because I don't have the best grasp on the timeline. Please excuse anything that doesn't make sense or anything that didn't happen exactly as it did in the manga/anime. There may be a few differences, but I'm trying for there not to be.

I feel as though Skull and others are a bit OOC in a few, especially in the Human by the Killers one, but I'm trying the best I can. Sorry if you find something wrong with the characters. I also tend to go on and on in a few so sorry if you don't get it 100%. If the sentences have more than 2 'and's, that is one purpose. I just like it that way. I also feel like I have trouble with past and present tense.

Oh, and guess what I learned today? Colonnello has 2 n's and Luce is not spelled with an 'h'. I need to fix my spelling. Excuse my stupidity.

I would **really** recommend you listen to the songs while reading, especially if you haven't heard them before. It makes it a better experience. I kept adding different songs and deleting the ones I didn't like, so I may rewrite I couple and post them later on. I don't know.

One last thing. I have a **poll on my profile **that I would really appreciate people checking out.

You can really tell on what I just half tried at toward the end of writing this. I didn't go in order. I feel bad, like they all have the same theme even though they don't. Ugh. .

Other than that, enjoy.

* * *

_(1... 2... 3... PLAY!)_

* * *

_God help the outcasts, the tattered, the torn.  
Seeking an answer to why they were born.  
Winds of misfortune have blown them about.  
You made the outcasts, don't cast them out. _

The poor and unlucky, the weak and the odd,  
I thought we all were the children of God.- God Help the Outcasts, Bette Midler version

Skull looks from the shadows at what is now the tenth Vongola boss. He is nothing like what he expected. This man was only just a child. Every single last one of these people- children. The others saw the new hope of the mafia, the people who were the next generation of killers and illegal crime. They saw people who were going to help rebuild the mafia world.

Do you know what Skull saw?

He saw a little boy who had a thing for explosives and never really quite fit in with his own family; a boy who was talked about behind his back and found out where his real mother was in the worst way possible and at an incredibly young age. A boy who clung on to what he had because he didn't know if it would be taken away like his mother was.

He saw a boy who played pretend way too often, who laughed to cover the tears and sadness; someone who gave up his own innocence to make sure the others he knew kept a bit of theirs. A boy who lied about knowing and cut people as he would sushi and tried to be happy for everyone else because they couldn't.

He saw an angry boy who enjoyed discipline because of how chaotic his childhood was, who secretly missed his mom and loved the school because of all its rules and regulations, and maybe because it reminded him of what he lost. A boy who hurt because he thought it was the only way to live and who deserved to cry but couldn't.

He saw a make-believe girl whose parents hated her and never knew what it was like to be cared for. She was a girl who was made mostly of make-believe things, who shared her life with a boy who _made_ make-believe things and lived so long he was just one giant tragedy. A girl who wasn't loved or really all there and a boy who spent most of his life in literal hell so he couldn't feel what it was like to be happy. Neither knew what was real anymore.

He saw an accident-prone child, the youngest of them all, who is just trying to live as a normal kid should, one who was full of laughs and tears and wasn't even in school yet. A child who wasn't sure what was going on because he was only five and was never told anything, who was ignored because he wasn't good enough. A child who is torn between two families and neither of them treats him quite right.

He saw a boy who yearned to be a man, who learned to fight when he was young to protect his sister because she couldn't defend herself. He is a boy who others avoided because he was just a little too excitable, a little too strong and it scared them. A boy who dreams of things he isn't going to have and wants what others aren't willing to give.

The very last one he sees is a boy who is meant to be a leader for this group of misfits but can't even handle himself quite right, who everyone laughed at and taunted because he wasn't as good as the other children were, who couldn't join in with the other kids because no one thought him good enough and he believed it. A boy who played by the rules in a world where everyone else pushed you off the playground the first chance they got.

And he was expected to lead this group of outcasts to glory.

They're not ruthless killers. They're just a bunch of kids who never fit in quite right.

_God help these children, _he thinks_, because no one else is going to._

_Life's gonna suck when you grow up_

_When you grow up_

_When you grow up_

_Life's gonna suck when you grow up_

_It sucks pretty bad right now. – Life' Gonna Suck, Denis Leary_

Today was officially the worst day of Skull's life.

It started out really crappy, with him rolling out of bed and onto the floor, hitting his head in the process. He had then gone to his closet to find his favorite jumpsuit (the purple one with Carcassa on it) had a huge hole in the back. He had then tried to go downstairs, only to trip and roll down them all. At the bottom Reborn greeted him with a kick to the stomach and a lesson on not being noisy before he had his coffee. And then, it turns out, he was out of his favorite cereal and had to leave on a mission before he could make anything else.

It all just went downhill from there.

The mission had been a total disaster. Not only did his target get away, but some fat old woman had mistaken him for her son and squeezed him so hard he thought he was being crushed to death. No wonder the son had run off. When he finally convinced her he wasn't any toddler named "Florence" (Seriously, who names their kid that?) the woman had insisted on helping him find _his _mother instead. He wasn't a baby, damnit!

Once he finally managed to get away from the crazy lady, he figured out that the forecast lied to him this morning. Rain started to pour down as if the angels themselves were letting the flood gates go. Skull was soaked to the bone before he even made it out of town. By the time he had made it back to the base, his body was shaking rapidly and his lips were slightly tinged blue. He collapsed onto the couch, unconscious before he hit the pillows.

Colonnello woke him up around six o'clock via boot to the head saying that dinner was ready so stop lazing around. Skull was still drenched, but somehow managed to stumble his way up to his room despite feeling like he'd been hit by a car. He'd changed clothes and came back down for dinner, but immediately regretted it. It was revolting. Apparently it was Verde's turn to cook.

Since dinner was disgusting, Skull made his way back up to his room where he fell onto the bed. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't go back to sleep. A shower would be nice, but that would require getting up again, something he did not have the energy to do. His head was pounding, his eyesight was blurry, he probably had a fever, the room felt like it was below zero, and he was starving. Downstairs he could hear the irritated screams of the other Arcobaleno, most likely complaining about dinner.

Then he remembered it was his turn to do the dishes.

Yeah, today sucked.

_Taking everything for granted but we still respect the time  
We move along with some new passion knowing everything is fine  
And I would wait and watch the hours fall in a hundred separate lines  
But I regain repose and wonder how I ended up inside _

Can we fast-forward to go down on me?

_Stop there and let me correct it  
I wanna live a life from a new perspective  
You come along because I love your face  
And I'll admire your expensive taste  
And who cares divine intervention  
I wanna be praised from a new perspective  
But leaving now would be a good idea  
So catch me up on getting out of here – New Perspective, Panic at the Disc_

Skull doesn't want to be seen as the stupid idiot who keeps bothering everyone else. He doesn't want to be seen as some annoying person who can't do anything right or some weakling who doesn't fit in.

He wants to be known as Skull the Great or Skull the Strong, not Skull the moron. He wants people to see him for who he is, not what he does. He wants people to acknowledge how high he's gone, not just how far he's fallen. He wants the others to rethink their opinion of him, not just keep thinking the same thing of him every time they meet, if they think of him at all.

Skull wants a lot of things in life. He wonders if that makes him selfish.

He wants people to see him in a new light, in a new perspective. And he works hard for that.

But right now he has a long way to go and no time to get there.

_Pay my respects to Grace and Virtue  
Send my condolences to Good  
Give my regards to Soul and Romance  
They always did the best they could  
And so long to Devotion  
You taught me everything I know  
Wave good bye, wish me well  
You gotta let me go – Human, The Killers_

Skull was huddled over his desk, pen and paper in hand. It shouldn't be this hard to write down a few simple words. It wasn't like he was dying or something. It was just a goodbye note. He'd probably see them again in a few weeks anyway. It should be simple. He pressed is forehead to his hands.

So why was it so hard?

That was probably because he wasn't even telling them he was joining the Carcassa family in person.* He was writing a stupid letter about it. No one would probably even care anyway. Heh, he really was a coward.

_This is more of a formality than anything, _Skull thought. _Just get it over with._

The pen hovered over the paper. Then, slowly, he began to write.

'_Dear whoever finds this,_

_I'm joining the Carcassa family. They treat me a whole lot better than you do and even though our attempt to invade Mafia Land failed, I'm sure we'll be able to win in the future. Even though I hate most of you for not seeing how superior I am, I suppose goodbyes are needed. It is also a good time to say what I've always wanted to._

_Viper, even though you are a greedy bastard who ruined my last Christmas, I must say I do respect you a bit for not joining in with everyone's teasing. Even if it was because you didn't want to waste your time, I thank you._

_Fon, you have always been one of my favorites. You never laughed at me. You never yelled at me. You even tried to help me whenever the others were putting me down. I doubt it will, but I'm sorry if my leaving causes any problems for you. You are one of the nicest people I know. If Luce were here I would say the same to her. Thank you. _

_Verde, you're really creepy. You give small children nightmares, and you always told me how 'obsolete' I was compared to your machines. I'm going to prove that you're machines are rust piles and I'm better than they are. _

_Lal, you are really cold to me and ignored me. Several times you've also beaten me up. But, at the same time, you also tried to teach me how to fight better. (Not that I needed it.) So, thanks, I think. Go have some fun once in a while and don't be so uptight. Take a vacation. You need it._

_Colonnello, you're an ass. You always beat me up and insult me with Reborn, never recognizing my strength. I'm better than you think I am. I'm stronger than you think I am. I'm going to show you one day and then you'll be the one in the dirt. Sometimes, though, you were sort of-almost like a big brother to me. So thanks, but only slightly._

_Reborn, you suck. Period. _

_Go read Colonello's message._

_I hope you get hit by a car._

_Now you guys have gotten what you've always wanted. I'm leaving. Congratulations._

_Sincerely,_

_Skull (now) of the Carcassa Family_

Skull stared down at what he had written. It was wordy and not like him at all. Well, if worst came to worst, he could deny he ever wrote this or say it was forged. It was kind of nice to get these things off his chest though.

He stood up from his seat, grabbing his suitcase as he walked. Pausing in the door way, he gave one final look back to his room. The room that had been his home for the last few years, the room he had so many memories in.

He left the base without looking back again.

_Welcome to the family  
Hope you have a real good life  
With my little sister  
Yeah, she'll make a real good wife  
Hope you have lots of babies  
Hope you get a real good job  
Hope you don't mind company  
'Cause we'll be here a lot  
And brother here's some brotherly advice  
If you know what's good for you you'll treat her right ('cause) _

_'Cause Grandpa's the local sheriff_  
_Yeah, he's the judge and the jury too_  
_Uncle Bill's the undertaker, son,_  
_He'll dig a hole for you_  
_Cousin Jesse, he's just crazy_  
_He'll fight you just for fun_  
_Mama's got a real bad temper_  
_And daddy's got a shotgun – Welcome to the Family, Little Big Town_

The guard whimpered loudly as the boot resting against his neck dug in deeper. The bodies of other guards around him were scattered about, moaning from the pain that kept them from getting up. Each body had a "Carcassa" label on the uniforms, most stained from blood. Not a single guard was uninjured, but none were dead either.

"Now you listen here," the fedora wearing baby above guard 662 said. "You are going to give your leader a message, _capiche_?"

662 nodded from the floor, throat too crushed to say anything. Dimly, he could make out several other figures behind the toddler who was slowly killing him.

"And my lackey will never hear of this, right?" The child asked, no- _demanded _with an air of one older beyond his years.

662 coughed slightly, trying to get enough air.

"W-who?" he rasped out. The foot on his neck disappeared for a moment only to connect with his stomach a moment later. A bit of blood trickled down 662's chin.

"My lackey is the gothic monkey that just joined your family, stupid. He has piercings in his lip that make him look like a pincushion and has an octopus that should be made into sushi. _That _lackey."

_Skull-sama, _662 realized. His superior officer was out right now. If he had been here this never would have happened.

The foot lifted to kick him again. 662 flinched back, but another child wearing a Chinese outfit stuck out his arm to stop the boy in the fedora. Said baby paused mid-kick, but looked as though he was only just containing his anger.

"Please, let's be a bit rational about this and explain. I'm sure this man is rather confused."

The baby with the fedora narrowed his eyes, but he backed off. 662 was suddenly very grateful to this child who helped severely injure his coworkers and himself. The Chinese toddler kneeled down near the guards head, face uncomfortably close.

"I do apologize about this but it is the only way we can get this message through to its fullest extent." The baby started off, apologetic smile on his face. It looked more dangerous than it should have. "It's just that even if most of us do not act like it, we actually do care deeply for Skull and do not wish him to be hurt-"

"Speak for yourself, kora!" Another voice rang out. 662 was barely able to make out another baby, this one blonde and handling a gun. A very, **very **big gun. He shuttered.

"And," the Chinese toddler repeated, "We do not wish him to be harmed and so we must take measures to be sure he won't be taken advantage of. Of course, this will not happen, correct?"

662 shook his head wildly. It's best to agree with the people holding power over you, even if they were about one year old.

"That's good. Because you know what will happen if he is harmed in _any_ way, right?" The smile seemed to get brighter in a 'cat that ate the canary' way. It didn't seem right that a baby who seemed so peaceful could look so evil. 662 stared at him.

"I'll tell you what will happen. I will first decide what punishment will befall you and all others who helped in his harm. Trust me, it will be _very_ unpleasant. I am well known for being able to make someone bleed internally without causing any damage to the outside skin, you realize that, yes? * I'd love to do it again. Or, instead, I could lock you and your friends in a cell for a month where you must live on filth water and rats." He gave a small laugh.

"Then, _this_ man," the Chinese baby pointed to the blonde toddler with the gun from before. "will fight you by himself, breaking every bone in your body one by one. And he will enjoy it very much."

The blonde baby gave a toothy grin and lifted his thumb to his throat in a slitting gesture. It was not comforting at all.

"And when he is done with you I will then give you to _him_." The Chinese baby nodded over to where a fourth baby was standing. A hood covered his head, but 662 could make out triangular tattoos under his eyes. It stood still, frozen as if it was a porcelain doll. I t unnerved him more than the gun baby did.

"I do not usually torture for free," the doll childe spoke, jolting 662 from his zoned out state. "But I suppose your screams will be payment enough." 662 whimpered in fear.

"And when he is finished, you will then be passed along to a woman with a very **bad** temper."

A toddler 662 hadn't seen before, one with a fire tattoo and a cloak, stepped forward.

"I have always wanted a moving target." She told him, eyes piercing his very soul. She looked over to the first baby, the one who had tried to kill him. "Would you care to help, Reborn?"

"It would be my pleasure." He replied, fedora shading his eyes in a demonic looking way.

"And when they are done," the Chinese man drew 662's attention back to him. "I will give your body to a scientist who will do unspeakable things to it before burying it in a place sunlight will never reach and your corpse will rot inside Hell itself."

A final baby, one wearing large glasses and a lab coat, looked up from where he was studying over complex notes.

"I look forward to having more test subjects for my more dangerous experiments." The toddler seemed to pout slightly. That made it worse. "All the others weredisposed of due to…_complications._"

"So, are we on the same page?" The Chinese baby asked. He didn't seem so nice any more. 662 was convinced he was the worst of all of them.

662 cried slightly as he nodded. These children were made from the very depths of evil.

"That's good." The Chinese toddler's smile faded a bit. "I do hope we will not need to come back one again. I'm sorry to take up your time. Please make sure your boss gets the message."

And with that, the demonic children were gone, leaving hundreds of guards lying broken and bloody on the floor of their own base.

It was almost an hour after the babies had left that 662 could speak again.

"Who…who were they?" He gasped. He wasn't sure anyone else would answer or if they were in the condition to.

"Y-you don't know? Those were the A-arcobaleno…" Someone stuttered from across the room.

The Arcobaleno? Those were the legendary Arcobalno? The Arcobaleno who could supposedly kill thousands and not even break a sweat?

They were not at all like Skull-sama.

_Holy-, _662 thought moments before he passed out into dreamland.

"What the hell?" Skull's voice echoed around the room. Guards lay around the base, some unconscious and others trying to get medical help.

"I leave for _one hour_ and this is what happens? Weaklings!"

_These feelings won't go away  
They've been knockin' me sideways  
They've been knockin' me out lately  
Whenever you come around me  
These feelings won't go away  
They've been knockin' me sideways  
I keep thinking in a moment that  
Time will take them away  
But these feelings won't go away – Sideways, Citizen's Cope_

One month.

It had been one month since Reborn had died, murdered by that damn Byakuran.

Skull knew exactly when it happened.

One month ago he had been on the run, hiding out somewhere in lower Japan. He had stopped to rest when suddenly something in the air felt off, like something was lacking. Skull could practically _feel _the universe break, something stolen to never be returned. The sky wasn't as blue as it had been, the sounds were quieter. Except that wasn't really it, was it? It was something else too.

And then his phone was buzzing and Colonnello was there screaming into the speaker about an ambush, about Reborn and Italy and telling him the enemy was stronger than before, telling him to warn Lal, to tell Fon what happened because he couldn't . Except he kept coming back to _RebornRebornReborn_, but he spoke too fast and Skull didn't really _understand_ but he somehow got it_, _even without Colonnello flat out saying it.

All he could say was "Oh."

And then Colonnello stopped talking and was just really quiet for a while.

All he could say after that was "Oh." too.

The greatest hitman in the world, the most powerful Arcobaleno, the man who spend most of Skull's time telling him he wasn't good enough, the man who always said he should've never been an Arcobaleno because he was too weak, the man who had the most impact on the mafia world, the most impact on _Skull's_ world, was dead.

Skull hated him since the day they met.

He should be happy.

Skull collapsed back on his bed, arm covering his eyes.

So why did it hurt so badly?

_And who cares if you disagree?  
You are not me  
Who made you king of anything?  
So you dare tell me who to be?  
Who died and made you king of anything? _

All my life I've tried to make everybody happy  
While I just hurt and hide  
Waiting for someone to tell me

_It's my turn to decide- King of Anything, Sara Bareillies_

_This is Halloween, everybody make a scene_

_Trick or treat till the neighbors gonna die of fright_

_It's our town, everybody scream_

_In this town of Halloween_

_I am the one hiding under your bed_

_Teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red_

_I am the one hiding under yours stairs_

_Fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair_

_This is Halloween, this is Halloween_

_Halloween! Halloween! Halloween! Halloween!_

_In this town we call home_

_Everyone hail to the pumpkin song_

_In this town, don't we love it now?_

_Everybody's waiting for the next surprise. – This is Halloween, Nightmare Before Christmas_

Heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Blood rushing through his veins, copper smell in the air.

Laughter echoing, howling- something not human getting much to close.

The dark envelopes him in a cocoon, covering everything in sight. He can't tell his hand from the walls near him. There's something there, something he can't see. Perhaps it's a monster, perhaps it's the dark itself. He doesn't know. All his senses scream to run, to get away. He tries, but never seems to gain any distance.

Suddenly, the cackles stop. The only sounds are of his harsh breathing, but he keeps running. It's still out there, he's sure of it. It's still coming.

The corridor ends. He knows this because he rams into it before sprawling out onto the floor.

"No." He whispers, voice echoing throughout the dark. "No, no, no, no_, no!_"

There's no where left to run.

He can't go back.

He doubts he can go forward.

But maybe there's a door he can't see. Maybe it isn't hopeless yet. He knows he's lying to himself as his hand run over the smooth black. There is nothing there, there's never anything there. Still, almost hysterically, he feels the walls searching for something, any notch or door handle. There still could be-

He freezes.

Someone, _something _is there, behind him. He knows they're breathing even though there's no sound of it, nothing he can feel. He knows they're staring at him even though he can't see them, can never see them even if he's facing it. He _knows _their face is there, right next to his ear even if they don't do anything to announce their presence. He can feel their hair and skin ghosting over him but at the same time he _can't _because _there is nothing there-_

"**Found you."**

Skull screams, throat burning and-

-and shoots up in bed, cold sweat covering him.

He's in his room, in his bed. The covers have fallen onto the floor. He doesn't dare reach over to pick them up, body shaking as if he's having a seizure. Dimly, he can make out shapes of furniture unlike in his dream, no- nightmare. It calms him slightly, but not enough.

"Nothing." He whispers to himself. "It's only nothing."

And Nothing is scarier than what isn't there.

_I don't know when_

_I don't know how_

_But I know something_

_Is starting_

_Right now – Part of Your World (Reprise), Little Mermaid_

Skull looked around, judging the other people around him. He'd gotten a letter, asking him to do some secret job along with several other people. It was obviously suspicious, but he was always up for some excitement. The stunt jobs these days never got the adrenalin going the way it used to. He could handle himself anyway. Skull angled his head down, but stared at everyone out of the corner of his eyes.

To his right sat a man who was probably in his thirties. Stubble lined his chin, hair black but greenish in tint. He wore a lab coat, most likely a scientist. He was looking over some papers filled with mathematical formulas he didn't quite understand. Yeah, defiantly a scientist. He even had large glasses to go with the look. Creeper.

Beyond him was a boy…girl…thing. His gut told him it was a boy, but a bit of doubt lingered for some reason. The…thing…was wearing a hood to cover its face, purple triangles below where its eyes should be. It was counting money, large sums if the numbers were anything to go by. It was probably greedy or had just scored well in gambling. Maybe both. But something about the person seemed…off. Like it wasn't really there. Or, it was, but there was something there with it he couldn't see. Skull couldn't quite put his finger on it. He compared it to the way fog or mist was. There, but at the same time not.

To his right sat a woman in her twenties, long black hair and a 'don't mess with me' look. It seemed she was just as weary as he was. Smart. Her clothes were dark, a brown hat placed on her head. She stared at the table, tense but lost in thought. Skull had a small inkling that she was constipated.

Next to her was a man, Chinese if the outfit was anything to go by. His eyes were closed as if in meditation. Or asleep. But Skull doubted that. The man looked rather peaceful, but he knew better than that. This man could probably kill him in a moment if need be. Best to leave him alone for now.

To the Chinese man's left was a man in a nice suit wearing a fedora, eyes shaded and frowning like the rest of them. This man was probably the most dangerous out of the entire group. Skull knew who he was. This man was Reborn, the most fearsome hitman in all the mafia. If he was here, there was cause for alarm. Reborn didn't come for just anything.

A young woman was the last in the circle. She was glancing around a bit nervously, but not in a frightened manner. It was more like she wanted to say something and didn't know how. She wore white robes with gold linings. Her hat was huge in a way that made Skull think of a muffin. A yellow clover tattoo was under one of her eyes. She seemed pretty harmless.

Skull felt as if he'd seen all these people somewhere before, but, other than Reborn, couldn't put his finger on it. It drove him nuts.

Suddenly, the girl with the muffin hat stood up from her seat and walked around the table to stop between the constipated woman and himself. She looked at the woman and broke the silence that had settled on all of them.

"Hello, my name is Luce."

Something told him that this was the start of something that would go down in history.

_My friends around, the swing better than me_

_In such a way I could never imitate_

_Would they hear a sound if I gave up and agreed?_

"_I don't know why I bother to even try, _

_I'll never swing that high!" _

_The radius of 250 centimeters is the distance I can swing around._

_I'll always try my best to rise above it._

_Just give me one more day_

_Just wait and see! – Double Lariat, (Vocaloid) Rockleetist version_

Everyone else is so much better than he is at, well, just about everything. Better fighters, smarter, calmer, more talented, you name it, there is someone better than Skull. Just because he wasn't naturally gift at everything didn't make him useless. It didn't make him slow. It meant he had to _work_ for what he had, like a normal person.

Sometimes he thinks he liked his life better when he wasn't involved with the mafia, back when he was just a normal stuntman who loved what he did. Back when he didn't have people ridiculing him at every turn, back when he wasn't hit for making a simple mistake, back when people told him when he did well and not just when he did wrong.

Back when he wasn't trying to be killed at every turn.

But then Skull remembers, hey, he is one of the famous _Arcobaleno, _the best of the best. He was one of the most talented mafia members out there. Being looked down on was just a downside.

So he sets a goal in life.

Even if he's not as smart as Verde…

Even if he's not as talented with weapons as Colonnello…

Even if he's not as calm as Fon…

Even if he's not as good looking as Luce…

Even if he's not as level-headed as Lal…

Even if he's not as strong as Reborn…

He has talents too.

And he's going to be better than them one day.

All it takes is a little time.

_She said I think I'm going to Boston  
I think I'll start a new life  
I think I'll start it over  
No one knows my name  
I'll get out of California  
I'm tired of the weather  
I think I'll get a lover  
I'll fly them out to Spain _

I think I'll go to Boston  
I think that I'm just tired  
I think I need a new town to leave this all behind  
I think I need a sun rise  
I'm tired of the sun set  
Hear it's nice in the summer  
Some snow would be nice  
Oh yeah – Boston, Augustana

He's really getting sick of this place.

He's sick of the gunshots, the death, and the screams of people he sees everyday and talks to. He's sick of people constantly wanting him dead. He's sick of fighting for a losing cause. He's sick of his crappy apartment he hasn't seen in a year because he's never there. He's sick of the same faces he sees whenever another tragedy occurs. He's sick of ending up bleeding on someone's floor whenever he is recognized by enemies. He's sick of everyone always being against him. He's sick of being screamed at for things that aren't his fault. He's sick of Italy and Japan being the only places he sees anymore.

But most of all he's just sick and tired of _being_ sick and tired.

So he stops.

Skull stops running. He stops picking fights. He stops caring.

One sunny, warm day in the middle of summer, Skull packs up what little belongings he has and walks to the airport. He pulls out an atlas and starts looking at different places he'd like to live. He'd never been to America before. His English could use a little brushing up on, but it could work. He had always wanted to see California. Maybe Canada. He liked the snow. Spain could work too. Spanish wasn't his strong point, but he might want somewhere warm for a change.

His phone starts to ring, but Skull doesn't even take one look at the caller ID before breaking it in half and shoving it into some poor woman's purse when she's not looking.

Maybe he could change his name too. He was a bit sick of "Skull." It would have to be something it fit where he went. His mother once said his name was supposed to be Daniel. That could work. No, it would have to be better than that. He could think more of it later.

Who knew? Maybe he could get an actual life there. Maybe he could fall in love. Or not. No one said it had to be _completely_ normal. It would be nice though. Maybe he'd get some friends who actually cared for once.

And if he gets caught, well…

He hears Hell is nice this time of year.

_Every memory of looking out the back door  
I had the photo album spread out on the bedroom floor  
Its hard to say it  
Time to say it  
Goodbye, goodbye  
Every memory of walking out the front door  
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for  
It's hard to say it  
Time to say it  
Goodbye, goodbye _

I miss that town  
I miss the faces  
You can't erase  
You can't replace it  
I miss it now  
I can't believe it  
So hard to stay  
Too hard to leave it. – Photograph, Nickelback

Photographs of all different shapes, sizes, and colors are laid out inside a simple black binder entitled "Memories." Some pages are yellowed with ages while others date back to a few months ago. The first page is just a bunch of names written all over, each one in the same handwriting, like a person had gone to measures to make sure they didn't forget.

The page turns.

There's a photo of a group of 7 people completely in the frame. An eighth is in the background, blonde and looking unhappy from where he is hiding behind a small hotdog vender's cart.* The main seven have different level of expressions. A tall man wearing a fedora is covered with pasta sauce, staining his new suit. He's pointing a gun at the back of a teen's head. The teen, a punk looking person with a purple hair and a piercing leading from his mouth to ear, looks caught between laughing hysterically and running. An empty plate lay sideways on the floor next to his feet. A woman, with a muffin hat sat next to the fedora man, had one hand to her mouth to smother her laughter, the other reaching toward the gun as if to pull it away.

A man with stubble and round glasses seemed to be screaming at the teen, holding papers that were also soaked in a red substance. His coat was smothered in sauce like his glasses were. He seemed to be upset that his papers were ruined, shaking his fist at the teen like an old man would. Next to him was a person wearing a coat that covered his or her eyes. The person sat still, looking frozen even in the picture. Purple tattoos were the only color against their skin. They didn't seem to notice the sauce. It hadn't touched them.

Opposite them was a man in a red, Chinese outfit. He looked calm despite the chaos around him, like the frozen person, but had a small smile gracing his lips. He seemed to be attempting to eat his noodles in peace, food halfway to his mouth already.

This must've been from when they had all just met and had gone out to lunch to know each other better, the muffin woman's idea. It was probably the one of the few pictures where they were all together.

The page turns.

This page is split between three separate pictures. The first one was of the man with the fedora sleeping. He was leaning back in a recliner with his hat tipped over his eyes. He had a smirk on his face that made you think he wasn't really asleep. A small chameleon like creature rested on the brim of his hat.

The next one was of two women and the punk teen. The first woman, the kind looking one, was leaning over a counter, bowls full of batter everywhere. A small bump was visible on her stomach through her robe. She's looking fondly over at the teen like a mother would to her child. A teenage boy stands only a few feet away with a determined look on his face. He's leaning over another batter-filled bowl, whisk moving quickly and causing some to spill out of the sides. A bit of flour stained his cheek. Off in the edge of the frame was woman with long hair. She also stared at the teen, but looked more annoyed than happy. It didn't look like she really was upset though.

The picture next to that seems to be of a lab. A scientist is hunched over papers, ink staining his hands. Vials and different colored liquids are scattered around the room. A half-built machine sits in the corner, tools lying carelessly on the floor. In the background you can just make out a shadowed figure behind the scientist. It's impossible to see their face, but they seem to be counting money.

The page turns.

Pictures are skipped.

Now stop.

Everyone in these pictures has regressed back to childhood. In the first one, two women, the fedora man, and the blonde man from the vender's cart talk in a circle. The woman- now-girl had a saddened look on her face as she stared at the grass. A boy in a fedora stood close to her, frowning in deep thought. A girl with a fire tattoo seemed to be mumbling something to the blonde child who looked as if he was yelling. Above them, another child sized figure sat in a tree. The leaves covered most of the child, but their red clothes were clearly visible. Each child had a pacifier of a different color.

The next photograph is of the teenager-who-isn't. The boy stands in front of a mirror, helmet near his feet. Whoever is taking the picture is behind him, so they only get the boy's back, but his front is shown in the mirror. He held his hand up to the mirror as if to inspect his new child body better, completely ignorant to the figure behind him. His facial expression is a mixture of anger, confusion, and other things that are hard to decipher. In the corner of the mirror, the figure can be seen. The camera covers their face, but the white clothes give it away. Pacifiers could be seen on both of them.

The third picture was of the scientist standing in some sort of hospital gown, suction cups on his head. The cups had wires connecting them to some sort of large machine, different meters and lights all over it. The scientist stood as straight as he could, eyes gazing over to a panel where another person was at. The other person had a hood over his or her face, one hand on a dial and the other clutching a stack of money. He or she had a purple pacifier, a green one sitting on the table next to them.

The page turns.

Skip to the end.

It's dated a few years back.

The scenery seems to be of some sort of bedroom. A large bed sits in the center of the room, large enough to hold seven or eight toddlers. The purple child is asleep in the middle of the bed, lying on his side and a small blanket thrown over him. On either side of him were the fedora and blonde children. The fedora baby had his hat tipped over his eyes again, facing the punk child but not touching him. In contrast, the blonde baby was clutching the purple child as if he were some teddy bear he was trying to strangle. Over to the side was the child scientist, lab coat missing for once. He, too, was asleep but in a tense sort of way, as if he wasn't that comfortable with this arrangement.

At the top of the bed, on the pillows, was the Chinese baby. He was completely relaxed, content smile on his face. One eye was cracked open slightly, like the photographer had woke him up. On the other pillow, the baby with triangle tattoos was sleeping. Even then a hood covered most of his or her face.

In the lower most corner of the bed was the only girl of the group. She was mostly relaxed, but still frowning slightly. Her tattooed cheek faced the ceiling, cloak spread over her at an odd angle. She was almost, but not quite, touching Colonnello.

The white girl with the muffin hat was mysteriously absent.

The book closes.

He missed these people, these old times, these things he couldn't go back and do. There was so much he regretted, but at the same time, so much he didn't. He wouldn't change a single thing.

If he ever got to see them again, just one last time…

Soon only the photographs will remember these people.

_Each and every dango, no matter how different  
Will all form a line that will connect  
All together, each dango will laugh 'til the sun's down  
Everyone rests under moonlight _

We wave to the bunny rabbit who had waved to us  
From the faraway moon in the sky  
Reminding us every memory happy or sad  
Will be precious to us - Dango Daikazoku

The swirling mixture of red, orange, and purple is absolutely beautiful. Nature is nearly silent for once, letting people enjoy it in peace while the sunset lasted. A lone boy sits underneath a sakura tree, back leaning against the rough bark. He thinks this is probably the most wonderful thing he has experienced in a while. Slowly, he tips his head back and closes his eyes, trying to burn the image into his mind. A smile tugs at his mouth.

Another person watches this boy silently, judging him. Then, almost hesitating, he walks over to the tree on the hill and plops down next to the boy. He doesn't say anything, just shifts his gun into a more comfortable place. The boy doesn't say anything, doesn't stir. He cracks one eye open, glancing at his companion, and then closes it. He lets the silence set in.

A crunching noise is heard as someone else makes their way up the hill. Both people already under the tree look up, then back at the sun. The noise stops. A fedora falls onto the grass.

There is a small shuffling from above. No one needs to look up to know another guest has arrived. A smile plays on said person's lips as he lets the birds nest near his feet.

Minutes pass. A women shows up, cloak covering nearly all her body. She takes a place next to where the fedora has fallen. She doesn't look at anything but the setting sun.

The _swish-swish _of a coat can be heard as an older man saunters to the patch of earth beneath the sakura tree. His glasses are gone for once. For the first time in a while he enjoys nature as it truly is, not with anything else to complicate it.

The last person to be seen has really been there all along. The air shifts slightly, objects blur, and suddenly there is a person with rather dark clothes for this time of year with them. There was no need to peak under their hood to know they too were watching the beauty before them.

An eighth presence can almost, _almost _be felt under the tree with them. It feels like an old friend.

The sun had long ago set. A shining moon rises above the eight people brought together by fate. Not a single one of them move to leave. Not just yet, they think. Let this last just a second longer.

No one needs to say anything to commemorate this moment, something for the others to keep close to their heart. It's not needed.

They're going to remember this forever.

* * *

_Isn't it fine to just know enough?  
Isn't it fine even if it's rough?  
Can't you live happily and in peace?  
Don't let yourself get so worked up _

Shouldn't you go to bed if you're tired?  
Shouldn't you take off once in a while?  
Can't we do whatever we wanna do?  
We have to enjoy being alive- No Logic, (Vocaloid) Katerinu2 version*

Fin~

* * *

*- On the official Reborn Wiki, it says that Skull later in the series implied he joined the Carcassa family after his attempt to invade Mafia Land failed, but wasn't elaborated on. I'm going with that theory.

*- Made this thing up. It'd be cool of he could though. Also very scary…

*In the first Photograph one, Colonnello wasn't one of the original Arcobaleno. So he couldn't be there when they first all met as adults. He did try to take Lal's place, which is why he is a baby and Lal's pacifier doesn't look right.

* That last song was just an ending theme, something I feel is my version of Skull's philosophy. At least for right now. IDK. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

EDIT: I HAVE JUST DELETED THIS AND HAD TO EDIT THIS SEVERAL TIMES BECAUSE SOMETHING KEEPS GOING WRONG WITH THE LOADING! IT'S ALMOST 11 O'CLOCK AND I AM SO TIRED FOR SOME REASON, SO I'M NOT EVEN BOTHERING TO ANYMORE!

Ahem. Please excuse that rant very quickly. It just gets annoying after the third time of doing this. ^.^'' Yeah...But seriously, the music shouldn't be that broken up and some of the fonts were messed up. The first time EVERYTHING was in italics...

I'm tired and don't have much else to say. G'night.


End file.
